


For the Love of a Hunter

by bookmaniac



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Don't Judge Me, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookmaniac/pseuds/bookmaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riddell get's shot and Nefertiti patches him up. Whump fic, with a small side of fluff. RiddellxNefertiti one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Love of a Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing whump. Meh. I own nothing.

It was dark by the time Nefertiti managed to half carried Riddell into their campsite. His arm was draped over her shoulder and they were both breathing heavily as she guided him into their tent. His hand was pressed to his chest, trying to suppress the blood that was flowing from the bullet wound in his right shoulder. They’d had a run in with another hunter, and it’d gotten nasty. In the heat of the moment, their advisory had shot Riddell, but Nefertiti grabbed Riddell’s gun and made quick work of him, leaving him to the mercy of the African wilderness.   
They entered the tent and she gently laid him on his cot, causing him to moan. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, a move that would normally draw from him several cheesy pick up lines, but now caused him to gasp in pain as she shifted him slightly to remove it.  
She crumpled up the shirt and pressed it to his wound, making him gasp. “Hold this there,” she instructed him, moving around the tent gathering supplies.   
Since she had decided to join Riddell, she’d picked up quite a bit, especially medical knowledge, as the hunter never seemed to be able to keep himself out of trouble very long. In the short time that she’d been with him he’d been cut, bloodied, and bruised, but this was by far the worst injury she had seen.  
She returned to his side and removed the now ruined shirt from his grip, tossing it to the side. She pulled out his flask of whisky. “This will hurt,” she told him as she unscrewed the top.  
“Well, don’t try and sugar coat it,” he said sarcastically, but his words were replaced by a cry of pain as she poured the alcohol over the bullet hole, sterilizing it.  
Knowing what was coming next, she handed him the bottle and he took a generous swig before handing it back. She took a pair of tweezers and sterilized them; an infection out here could be just as deadly as any shot gun or knife wound. She leaned over him with a grim look on her face, and began digging into the wound, searching for the bullet. He cried out in pain and his body tensed as she dug deeper into his arm, pain coursing through his arm and chest. All he wanted to do was curl up on himself, but it wasn’t an option, the bullet had to go. Finally she found the slug and managed to pry it from his body.  
His body went slack on the cot, breathing heavily. Sweat coated his chest and brow, slicking his hair to his forehead. He gasped in pain as she once again flushed the wound with whiskey and pressed his wadded up shirt back to his shoulder.   
She took a small knife from his collection and held it over the flame of a candle for a few minutes; this wouldn’t be pleasant, but it was necessary. Once the knife was glowing hot, she returned to Riddell’s side. She glanced grimly from the knife to him, locking eyes.   
With a sigh, Riddell said, “Just get it over with.”  
Nefertiti nodded and pressed the hot metal against the bullet hole, cauterizing it. Riddell gritting his teeth in agony, trying not to scream as the metal burned his flesh, sealing the wound and filling the tent with the scent of burnt meat.  
When the metal had cooled and the wound was closed, she removed the knife and set it aside. He collapsed against the cot again, his breath ragged, sweat glistening on his forehead. She gathered some clean cloths and ripped them up for bandages. She took his shirt from his hand and laid a clean patch of linen over the wound, and then began to wrap his shoulder and arm, causing him to wince. Once his arm was wrapped she fashioned him a sling and wiped her hands, which had become stained with his blood. She picked up the blood soaked cloths and took them outside to burn so the smell wouldn’t attract any animals.   
She returned with a damp cloth and some water, and wiped the blood and sweat from his chest, which was still rapidly rising and falling. His eyes were closed, the injury taking its toll on the hunter. She dabbed at his brow, trying to cool down his feverish body. The coolness of the cloth erected a small moan of pleasure from his lips, and he leaned into her touch.  
“Water,” he croaked, and she gently lifted his head and pressed a cup to his lips for him to drink.  
She helped him lay back down, her hand lingering on his arm for a moment. She blinked a few times and got up. “I’ll leave you to rest now,” she said and turned towards the entrance of the tent. She was stopped by a weak grasp around her wrist. She gasped quietly and turned to see Riddell weakly holding onto her.  
“Please,” he said quietly. “Stay.”  
She hesitated for a moment, but there was a pleading in his eyes that she just couldn’t ignore, so with a small smile, she nodded.  
She sat down on his cot and gently lifted his head into her lap, which caused him to groan as his shoulder was moved. His whole body was shaking from exhaustion, and she knew his pain would only get worse as the adrenaline left his system. She ran her fingers through his damp hair, brushing it back out of his face, and gently traced the side of his face with her fingers. The motion relaxed him, and it wasn’t long before his eyes closed, and he finally gave into sleep.   
She smiled as she watched him sleep, the warm light from the gas lamp casting small shadows over his face. It wasn’t often that she saw the hunter let his guard down like this. She couldn’t deny that she liked it. He was so much different then the husband she had left thousands of years in the past; Riddell was charismatic and opinionated and down right cocky. He drove her insane most days with his wild schemes and sexist opinions, but she wasn’t afraid to give it right back to him, with interest. Despite all the ups and downs they made one hell of a pair, and she would never leave his side, not for all of time and space.


End file.
